


Echoes

by LdyBastet



Category: Riddle-Master Trilogy - Patricia A. McKillip
Genre: Amnesia, M/M, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-04
Updated: 2011-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-17 14:27:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LdyBastet/pseuds/LdyBastet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where everything, including his own name, is unknown, loneliness is a certainty. After Morgon is attacked and injured on his way to find out who he is, Astrin continues to take care of him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Echoes

**Author's Note:**

> The world and characters of the Riddle-Master Trilogy belongs to writer and copyright holder. I only borrowed them for an attempt at transformative writing. I earn only pleasure from it. No people, either real or fictional, were hurt in the writing of this story.
> 
> Written as a gift for my friend cate, the only other person I know who likes this book series. Fits the _mind-control/amnesia_ square on my Kink Bingo card.

It was the gentle touch of fingers against his skin that broke the hold the bottomless darkness had on him. Soft hands that wiped a warm, wet cloth over the sting in his side. Morgon woke up from yet another of his faceless, silent dreams that taunted him with a past he couldn't remember and left him with neither clues nor sense. His head was pounding and his eyes were burning as if he'd been crying for days.

"You're awake. Good," said a voice he did recognise despite the haze and confusion that lingered in his mind, and Morgon was clinging to this one point of familiarity. Astrin; he was with Astrin. "You moved so violently in your sleep that your wound opened up."

Morgon opened his eyes, remembering the attack. The worried look on Astrin's face, impossibly paler than it normally appeared, made him want to say something, anything, to make Astrin relax, to make him feel better, but he still couldn't find his voice and even if he had, he was weak and in a lot of pain, not feeling much better than when Astrin had carried him into the small house. Morgon looked at him, his colours so different from his own: pale skin, eyes and hair white as snow. Here was a man who had _killed_ to keep Morgon safe, who'd also threatened to kill someone he knew just because he wasn't sure if that man, too, would try to harm Morgon. Yet, Astrin didn't know who his guest was. Morgon knew his own thoughts, though he knew little else – they were thoughts uprooted from the past and strangely disconnected, but they were something. Astrin didn't have even that, and still he'd killed to protect him.

Frustrated, Morgon groaned and tried to sit up, but Astrin's strong hands pushed him back against the pillow.

"Relax. Don't push yourself. You lost a lot of blood." Astrin's voice was soft and low, and Morgon let himself be taken care of. Just that little attempt to move had brought back the dizziness and the strange light-headedness again, and he had to admit that perhaps he wasn't as all right as he'd wanted to believe. He made a questioning sound, and Astrin paused in his ministrations to look into his eyes. "Are you asking if we're safe?"

Morgon nodded, annoyed once more that whatever took his memories had also taken away his words.

"I think we're safe here, for now. It was only the two of them, and we were quite a distance from the house when they attacked us." He began bandaging the wound.

Morgon thought for a few moments, while Astrin rolled him over to his uninjured side to get the strips of cloth securely around his torso, again and again - a slow rocking that Morgon found strangely calming, like the gentle roll of the sea. Then he remembered the time when Astrin had come back bloodied and wounded. Morgon reached out weakly to touch the fresh scars hidden under Astrin's shirt.

Astrin nodded. "I know. But that wasn't on our doorstep either. I had been wandering that night... and that wasn't human." He tied off the bandage and sat back in his chair to look at Morgon again. "I will protect you; I will protect us both."

 

The next time Morgon woke up, it was to the faint clicking sound of knitting needles. An old woman was sitting in the chair Astrin had been occupying and when Morgon slowly raised his head, there was no sign of him. The distressed sound he made alerted the woman that he was awake.

"Shh, easy now. No need to worry, dear. You're weak as a kitten but Master Astrin knows his herbs and is taking good care of you. You'll mend soon, you'll see." She patted him on the hand as she rose from the chair and fetched a bowl of soup. Steam rose from the bowl. It smelled good, making him realise that he was hungry. "Here you go, dear. You need to get a little food into you now-- No, no. you're not strong enough yet. I'll help you with that. We can't have you spilling soup all over yourself and the bed."

She began to spoon-feed him, and while she did, she kept talking, giving him bits of village gossip and other information. His mind wandered, not used to anyone talking so much about so many different things, in such a short time, but despite his lack of attention, he did find out that Astrin was out hunting and that the pieces of meat in the soup were from a rabbit that Astrin had caught the previous day. When the soup was gone - and it disappeared quickly even though his nurse spent more time talking with the spoon halfway between the bowl and his mouth than actually feeding him - the woman removed the extra pillow she'd stuffed behind his head, and Morgon slipped into a light sleep again.

The days continued like that, with the old woman fussing over him, and sometimes, when Astrin was home, over him as well. Morgon lost count of the times he heard her tell Astrin he should rest properly too, that neither of them would benefit from him wearing himself out. Astrin waved her concerns aside though, and kept on napping in the chair where he could keep an eye on Morgon.

She left when Morgon was fit enough to at least sit on his own, and the house was suddenly much quieter. It also felt a little colder, as if her presence had brought a different kind of warmth, one that Morgon couldn't put his finger on and name, but one that made him wonder if he had family waiting for him somewhere nonetheless. He felt lonely, and when night fell and Astrin moved to settle into his chair for the night again, Morgon lifted his blanket and slowly, carefully moved to the side of the bed.

"No." Astrin shook his head. "You need to sleep comfortably. I'll be fine here."

Now it was Morgon's turn to shake his head. He made an impatient sound and lifted the blanket a little more. He wasn't that fragile, he thought; he could sit up and move around a little now, so having Astrin next to him could hardly cause him any harm.

"I can't."

Morgon frowned and nodded. Of course he could. After all, it was Astrin's bed, and they'd been sleeping in it next to each other before. He lifted the blanket again and gestured with his other hand for him to come to him. With a sigh, Astrin gave up his protests and carefully stretched out next to Morgon in the narrow bed. Morgon slept easier that night, not haunted by dreams of sea-mist warriors and traders with rough beards and sharp swords, but comforted by Astrin's warmth.

Morgon woke up to a light touch on his face, and realised as whatever dreams he'd had faded, that Astrin was brushing back his hair. Morgon smiled a little. It felt good, and he drifted off to sleep again. He didn't know how much time had passed, but the next time he woke up, he slowly became aware of the fact that he'd wedged one of his legs between Astrin's in his sleep. Morgon felt a stirring in himself that he couldn't remember having before, but which was familiar despite that, and there was more than Astrin's thighs that pressed against him. He opened his eyes.

"You were moaning in your sleep," Astrin whispered, the only look on his face one of worry. "Are you all right? Any pain?"

 _No pain,_ Morgon wanted to tell him, but had to settle for first nodding and then shaking his head, responding to both his questions. Astrin relaxed visibly at this, but did not make any move to remove his thigh from between Morgon's legs. The moment stretched out impossibly while neither of them stirred or looked away.

It was Morgon who moved first, raising his head to press his lips lightly against Astrin's, but it was Astrin who deepened the kiss and pressed Morgon's head back onto the pillow. Morgon couldn't help but make a quiet, needy sound as more (strange yet well-known) feelings washed over him. Morgon felt Astrin's hand skim across his stomach and the sensation made him gasp and his cock twitch, growing.

"Do you want this?" Astrin whispered, and Morgon nodded. "We should wait... until you're fully healed." Morgon shook his head. He didn't want to wait, not now - not now that he knew that he wanted to touch and be touched. Astrin seemed to understand. "Don't move too much," he whispered before kissing Morgon again.

When Astrin closed his hand around Morgon's cock, it took all of Morgon's willpower not to arch his back and thrust his hips up; the deep moan, however, he had no control over. Every move of Astrin's hand, every little caress of his fingers, every twist of his hand, brought Morgon a new gift of pleasure. He quickly realised that he wouldn't last long and reached down to touch Astrin, but was thwarted by Astrin's breeches. Morgon pulled at them with a frustrated groan.

"You don't have to," Astrin whispered, but Morgon nodded, willing him to understand that this was not about paying back for what Astrin did for him, but because he _wanted_ to feel him in his hand too. "All right. Wait." Astrin quickly undid the drawstring in his breeches and pushed them down enough to free his own cock, before resuming what he'd been doing.

Morgon's hand was not unfamiliar with this act, it seemed, even though Morgon had no memory of having done this before. It knew what to do, and even the slightly awkward position forced on him by his injury didn't pose an obstacle. Everything was new to Morgon, but at the same time, it felt as if he'd been giving pleasure to someone else before - the feel of the silky smoothness in his hand wasn't new to him. He stroked it while moaning against Astrin's cheek, and his lips when they kissed again, enjoying both the hard member in his hand and the warm pleasure that spread through him from what Astrin was doing to him. Soon, far too soon, the warmth turned almost unbearable hot, making it impossible to lie still, making him ignore the pull on the wound in his side.

Astrin stopped moving. "Relax," he warned. "Just let it happen. Don't fight to hold on."

Morgon gasped and tried to nod, whimpering when Astrin began moving his hand again. It was only a few moments before Morgon pushed his head back and squeezed his eyes shut, the rush of blood in his ears loud enough to drown out Astrin's soft moan.

When he opened his eyes again, Astrin was looking at him. There was a light flush on his pale face, and Morgon smiled contentedly, only realising then that he'd stopped stroking Astrin when he was overtaken by his orgasm. Astrin let go of Morgon and closed his hand instead over Morgon's to guide his movements and pace.

The pink patches on Astrin's cheeks spread down his neck as they continued like this and his moans changed to a low groan...

 

Astrin cleaned Morgon's stomach and hand of semen, then wiped a few stray spatters from the edge of the bandages. "Do you remember who he was?" Astrin asked quietly after a few moments. Morgon looked up at him. "This was not the first time you touched someone, I could tell."

Morgon shook his head. No, he didn't remember anything more now than he had before. He rested his cheek against Astrin's shoulder. He could almost ignore that he didn't know who he was or how his voice had been stolen, because no words had been really necessary between them during these moments of pleasure, and Astrin's hand on his hip felt good, making him feel safe. Maybe it didn't matter who he was, after all.


End file.
